


Contact

by prowlish (valkyrie_fe)



Series: tf_speedwriting's Spam Weekend [4]
Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Community: tf_speedwriting, Death References, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrie_fe/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lately, Jazz is a hard bot to track down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt(s): #4: the other side (as in the supernatural)

“Optimus!”   
  
Optimus winced, the distinct -- though familiar -- feeling of dread and preemptive irritation gripping his spark upon hearing Sentinel Prime’s voice. Wasn’t he supposed to be  _gone_  by now? Letting his face mold into neutrality, he turned to face the approaching prime. “Yes, Sentinel? How can I help you?” Right out the door, hopefully -- but Optimus kept that thought to himself.  
  
“You can  _help me_  by finding my lieutenant,” Sentinel said, arms crossed over his broad chassis.  
  
Optimus frowned. “Jazz? The last I saw, he was in Prowl’s room, but that was a couple of cycles ago. He didn’t report back to you?”   
  
A disgusted look passed over Sentinel’s faceplates. “No. If he’s still doing this mystical slag...”  
  
“Mystical slag?”   
  
Sentinel gestured his hands impatiently. “Meditation, or whatever he calls it.  _I_  call it napping at the base of a tree. Doesn’t he know about all the tiny organic things that live in dirt?” Sentinel shuddered.  
  
“I don’t think that’s what he’s worried about,” Optimus said, shaking his head.  
  
“Then what  _is_  he worried about? He was never into this scrap before!”   
  
Optimus sighed. “You know, spiritual leaders in cultures all over the galaxy -- even our own -- who believe it’s possible to contact the, er, dearly departed with enough diligence or control to reach out.”  
  
Sentinel stared at him flatly, his hands falling to his sides again. “What does  _that_  have to do with anything?”  
  
“Everything. Jazz had some kind of connection with Prowl, right?”  
  
“...I guess.” Sentinel blew out a frustrated vent and shook his head. “Maybe I should leave him here, if he thinks he can speak to the dead.”  
  
Optimus snorted. “I’m sure he’ll be ready to go back to Cybertron with you as soon as you fetch him,” he replied.   
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Sentinel waved a hand, moving down the hall a few steps. He paused and looked back at Optimus. “Why would Cybertronians ever want to believe in this kind of nonsense?”  
  
Optimus smiled, but it didn’t feel like a happy one. “After a long great war that devastated the home planet?” he asked. “Who _wouldn’t_  like to contact the other side?”

 


End file.
